A Little Common Sense and Common Courtesy
by kali-g
Summary: The riot at the mill has a profound effect on how John and Margaret view themselves and each other. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Dedicated to L and Zigra, who reviewed my last North and South story.

Set the day after the riot, and afterwards.

John Thornton was an intelligent man. Indeed, he had risen to the role of magistrate, a task which, coupled with running the mill and lessons with Mr Hale, meant that he quite frequently used and developed most areas of his intelligence. However, in one area, John was sadly lacking common sense, and that was when examining the workings of the heart. Long had he known that he was in love with Miss Margaret Hale. Long had he known that she was the daughter of a gentleman, and expected to marry someone equal to her station.

Now, if Mr Thornton had taken more of an effort to observe Miss Hale, he might have saved both himself and her a good deal of heartache. And if he had used a bit more common sense, following the riot, he may have behaved differently. He would have realised that, firstly, Miss Hales understanding of the concept of gentlemanly behaviour was different to his, meaning that his own conduct may require some alteration. Further, Miss Hale was not a woman to be rushed. She was independent and proud, and would not relinquish her freedoms easily. Though she had tried to protect him at the mill steps, she may justify such intervention on the basis of not wanting to see anyone harmed, a consequence of her Christian upbringing. Indeed, she may not have any regard for him at all. Finally, Miss Hale's keen sense of social justice meant that his treatment of the workers would not impress her, and that perhaps in seeking a compromise could he show her that he indeed valued her opinion and the welfare of the mill and its' workers.

Thus, on the day following the riots, Mr Thornton went to address Miss Hale, with full knowledge that she may not return his love, that she may not have intended to show any romantic feelings for him when throwing her arms around his neck, and that if he were to win her, it would involve the long and arduous task of changing her opinion of him. However, he was sure that the benefits of succeeding in such a scheme, namely, Margaret's hand, would make the exertion worthwhile.

Miss Margaret Hale had be brought up among the upper crust of London society, and as such had high expectations of good grace and manners from her acquaintances. As such, upon moving to the north and mixing with the upper crust of society there, she realised that things were indeed different. However, at this point, she made an error, and assumed that different was inferior, and it was the responsibility of those in the north to adapt to the higher standard of southern manners.

If Miss Hale had made more of such an effort, that is, an effort to understand those around her, rather than concern herself with their various short-comings, she may have been more reasonable and thoughtful in her conduct. However, she made no such effort. Indeed, it was only after sustaining a blow to the head that she realised that the north was very different, and if she were to be happy there, she would have to exert herself to adapt, and restrain from judgment. As she lay in bed the night of the riot, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling, she thought back to her conduct towards Mr Thornton with regret. She had not tried to understand him at all. He had been nought but kind towards herself and her family, and she had made no reciprocal effort. He had befriended her father, been kind to her mother, and she had broken her own rules of decorum in sometimes spitefully arguing with him.

Determined to make more of an effort to engage with and understand the views of the master of Marlborough Mills, she fell asleep with his face in her minds eye.

And so it came to be that two people, recently resolved to change their comportment towards the other, met in the sitting room of the Hale household, both eager to please and be pleased.


	2. Chapter 2

I realised this fic has to be slightly AU, in that Mrs Thornton never pushed John to offer marriage, so it's not so strongly on his mind. Let's say she was away from home the day of the riots, and never knew of Margaret's presence, so never pushed the proposal. Also AU regarding Bessie, but whatever.

Resolved to be more open and warm, Margaret invited Mr Thornton in to the sitting room with a smile, and offered tea.

"No, thank you, Miss Hale. I must soon return to the mill."

"Of course," Margaret replied "You must be quite busy cleaning up after the riots."

Thornton stared speculatively at Miss Hale, trying to determine whether this was in any way a veiled criticism. Seeing nothing of that in Margaret's friendly and open face, Thornton replied slowly "Indeed we are, Miss Hale. It is of yesterday which I which to speak to you. I would first offer my sincerest apologies that you were injured. I cannot help but feel responsible. Are you recovered?"

Margaret paused, and looked carefully at Mr Thornton. His somewhat more loquacious manner was making her resolution to be more civil remarkably easier. In turn, Thornton was glad that she had not taken the mention of the riot wrongly and begun another argument about the Irish workers.

Margaret offered a small smile. "To be sure, sir, I am quite recovered. Thank you for your concern, but pray do not trouble yourself. The fault was mine alone. I put myself before the crowd and was injured. The action was mine alone and so blame for the consequences should also be apportioned to me."

John readied himself for an awkward turn of the conversation "I must approach a somewhat indelicate matter, Miss Hale. You were seen holding on to me by many workers, some of whom may have recognised you. As such, I have some concern about your reputation."

"My reputation?" Margaret interjected.

"Yes, Miss Hale," John said, willing her with his eyes not to lose her temper. "I am concerned that there may be talk, as we stood so closely by one another. I merely wished to ask your opinion about how best to approach this situation. "

At first surprised and somewhat flattered by his seeking her opinion rather than telling her what to do, Margaret's stomach then filled with nervous butterflies, as she realised that the implication of such conduct being seen publically would be that they were to marry.

John watched Margaret's face carefully, seeing first the bloom of a pleased blush steal over her cheeks, followed by a sharp decline in her colour as she understood his words.

"I do not understand Mr Thornton. Are you saying we ought to get married?" The last word trembled.

Seeing how the idea was not pleasing to her, John attempted to be tactful, and, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, replied, "Indeed, no, not if you do not wish it. Rather, I was wondering at whether you believed such a precaution necessary, considering the circumstances. If you do not wish to marry me, Miss Hale, I would not wish you unhappy. However, I would not want to see your reputation ruined by vicious rumours about us. I merely thought we should discuss this."

Margaret's eyes darted about the room as she tried to absorb this turn. Mr Thornton was prepared to marry her, to save her reputation? That her reputation was indeed in trouble had not even occurred to her. Thornton's forethought and offer of protection had a profound effect on Margaret, and she began to realise the true worth of the man sitting in the chair opposite her.

"I thank you sir, for raising this matter to my attention. I appreciate your concern on my behalf. If it is not too much of an inconvenience, sir, could be discuss this further tomorrow? Once I have had the chance to think, and we may have a clearer idea of whether anyone recognised me, and whether an engagement would be necessary…" Margaret trailed off, frown lines on her forehead.

Standing, Mr Thornton bowed. "I am at your service. I shall return tomorrow, at the same time."

Margaret too stood, to see John to the door. "Thank you, Mr Thornton."

And so, with a mind full of thee possibilities and implications of her conduct, and eager to hear of any words being spoken against her, Margaret saw John out, before gathering her hat and gloves and heading to see the Higgens'. Bessie, slightly recovered from the last time she saw her, greeted Margaret warmly, and spoke to her of the excitement the previous day. Bessie detailed the sighting of a mysterious and unidentified woman who was injured, and speculated as to her identity.

That night, Margaret, confident of her identity remaining a secret, thought of the conduct of Mr Thornton. Again, everything he had done had been in the service of another, namely, herself. He had been polite, more talkative, with improved manners and mode of address. And his eyes… Margaret fell asleep that night knowing that she could not in good conscience accept Mr Thornton's proposal on the current grounds. However, she knew that she indeed wanted to spend more time getting to know the tall man with the deep voice and pleasing manner.

At Mr Thornton's visit the next day, Margaret calmly and dispassionately expressed her view that an engagement was not necessary, while thanking John for the honour of the offer. On seeing John's scarcely concealed disappointment, Margaret wondered if perhaps his offer was based on more than just courtesy, and that he may have feelings for her. Observing him closely as he picked up his gloves to leave, and catching his longing look in her direction, Margaret saw the opportunity to ensure she saw more of John.

"Will my father have the pleasure of your company for your lesson tonight, Mr Thornton?"

Thinking that perhaps her rejection, however sweetly worded, was still too raw, John hesitated. Then Margaret interjected.

"If it would not be too much trouble, I should like to be present. I am eager to hear more of your views on the workers, and perhaps, convince you of my own views," she said archly, a smile arising on her lips.

John could not help but laugh, and Margaret could not help but stare at his exposed neck as he did so.

"Indeed Miss Hale, I should not like to deprive you of any opportunity to convince me of your superior reasoning," he said, settling his mirth. "I shall be here at eight for my lesson."

Margaret smiled, and they held eyes for a few moments. "Good day, then, sir. I look forward to your company."

And so it went, that each week, in a rational and thoughtful manner, both Margaret and John displayed their common sense and common courtesy towards each other in Mr Hales study. And after a period, when both parties realised that those times were the highlight of the week, and Miss Hales opinion of John was so improved that she now considered him the best of men, feelings were hinted at, expressed and reciprocated, and an engagement was set. The young couple faced many hardships during their engagement, Miss Hale losing both her mother and father and Mr Thornton only retaining the mill by the fortune of a particularly hot summer. However, the couple were so confident in the love and faith and fidelity of the other that their misfortunes did not but strnegthen their mutual dependence and regard.

A/N: Just wondering, should the third shot be the engagement, or set a few years later? Could do both, let me know which you'd prefer though.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long day; a very long day. John had awoken before sunrise to break his fast before heading to the mill to review the ledgers. Following this was the arrival of the workers, the usual maintenance problems with the machinery and answering a series of correspondences with possible investors. Then followed lunch with the men; following the breaking of the strike, and at Margaret's recommendation, John had hired Higgins as a deputy foreman. He had then suggested a joint meal fund, which, after a month of success, became a medical fund too. Margaret had been delighted in learning of these developments, and attributed them to her own influence over John. He, in turn, attributed it to sound business sense. Secretly, he knew that her approval of the schemes was all they needed to gain his.

It had been a long day, but Mr Thornton had the pleasure of the company of Mr Hale and his daughter to look forward to that night. And that had sustained him quite well. It had been three months since the riot, and John now three times a week spent the evening at the Hales. It was always the highlight of the day. At first, wary and suspicious, his debates with Miss Hale and her father had been stilted, each either too afraid to upset the other, or too stubborn to back down from contrary views. But from these early debates, a great respect grew. From that respect grew, at least on Margaret's side, affection. John was already too far gone. He had loved her from the start, and their closer acquaintance did nothing but further convince him that she was sheer perfection, and their partnership the key to his happiness.

However, this evening would be different. The last time he had visited, as she handed him his tea, Margaret's hand accidentally brushed John's. Their eyes automatically slid to each others. Margaret stopped mid movement, staring into John's eyes, while he sat transfixed on hers. Only Mr Hale re-entering the room made them aware of their surroundings, and Margaret sat back down, her fingers tingling where they had touched his. For the next half hour, she did not follow the conversation. Rather, lost in her own thoughts, she stared down at the carpet, a look of intense concentration on her face. Mr Hale, who had noticed the growing attraction between his daughter and his pupil excused both of their distraction, for John could not concentrate on anything but Margaret if she was in the room.

As John got up to leave that evening, Margaret stood to see him to the door. With a smile, and a strange look in her eye, she gave her hand to Mr Thornton, as was their custom. This time, however, she held his hand a little longer. The warmth spread. She felt as though the whole world was vibrating and only she and John stood motionless.

And John knew. Margaret was ready. Margaret loved him, and she knew it, and she accepted it. She loved him, esteemed him, respected him, and, John hoped, was ready to give herself to him. And so John, walking up to the Hales' front door, knew that tonight would be special.

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She welcomed him into the house. Her hair was different to usual; she had used small clips with pearls on them to decorate it. An errant curl ran deliberately down the right side of her face. Her cheeks were red. She wore a dress which was clean and freshly laundered; Thornton could see the fold creases. She had made an effort. He smiled at her, broadly, and responded to her greeting and confirmation of his family's health. However, as she made her way to the staircase, he stopped her.

"Miss Hale, may I request a private audience with you for a few moments before the lesson? You may have noticed, I arrived a few minutes early for that purpose."

Margaret blushed, hoping that her suspicions of what was to come were accurate, and lead him into the sitting room. She sat and a seat by the lit fire, and indicated that he could sit close by her.

However, as soon as he sat, he shifted, unable to be comfortable. However, on meeting her eyes, he stilled. And began.

"Miss Hale… Margaret. I… I know I have never found myself in this position before. It is difficult to find the words. My feelings for you Miss Hale…"

"Please. Stop" Margaret interrupted him, tears in her eyes. Inside, John froze. Had he misinterpreted her? Had he been wrong all along? Did she not feel what he felt, this burning passion, this desire to be forever near to her, close, protecting and loving with all that was within him. He felt himself flinch as if he had been struck. Rightly interpreting his stricken look, Margaret started to speak, words flowing freely from her mouth.

"Mr Thornton, pray do not worry yourself. I only meant to say that if I understand your feelings as I know you have penetrated mine, there is no need for anxiety. You need not try to find the words when between us, words have caused only friction. You must know I love you." At this, Thornton looked up, eyes wide and burning with a kind of deranged hope. " You must have seen how I react to you. You must know. So there is no need for you to struggle to find words when I know that our feelings are one."

Thornton quickly knelt at her knees, and cupped her face in his hand. In the same movement, he caught her lips, and the electricity which had lingered between them for the past months exploded as they went up in flames. Her lips, soft and pliable, moulded to his and he thought of nothing except how she felt against him. After passing a few delicious moments thus, he pulled back and began to speak.

"Margaret, you must allow me to tell you how I feel. You pierce my soul. You fill every part of me with light and hope and love. I am sure that we are two halves of the same whole. I know that at the beginning I did not impress you, but I will do anything- anything Margaret- to make you happy. Please," tears now filled his eyes, as they ran down her cheeks, "please be my wife? Let me love you and cherish you and praise you every day, til death do us part?"

Margaret closed her eyes, and leant her head on John's.

"I could have no greater pleasure in this world than being your wife," she whispered at him.

They smiled warmly at each other, and continued to kiss, all the hope and frustration of the past months resolved in the most satisfying way. When it became apparent that Mr Thornton would be quite late to his lesson, wth tears streaming and radiant smiles on both their faces, they ran upstairs to tell Mr and Mrs Hale the good news.

A/N; thanks to all who reviewed, I really appreciate it. Not sure of this one. It's the middle of the night here, so sorry f any mistakes. Will probably make it a four shot and do a scene a few years in, if people are eager. Let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you every one for the reviews! Very appreciated, and getting some good ideas. I figured because they've had a relatively easy go of it, this one might be a bit rougher. I think this idea has been done by others before, to some extent, though no plagiarism is intended. I like a bit of melodrama, you may have noticed. Again, thank you for the reviews, they're little rays of sunshine, every one.

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John stared at his wife across the breakfast table, willing her to look at him, while she just as resolutely avoided his eyes. She was cross at him, he was furious with her. And neither would budge. John stood up suddenly, his chair scratching heavily across the wooden floors of the dining room. Margaret's head twitched, indicating that she had heard him rise, but she still did not look at him.

It had been three days.

He moved woodenly towards her, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he passed her. As his head descended towards her cheek, she moved hers away, looking down at the carpet to her right and dropping her fork on her plate in the process. His lips reached only air.

Sighing quietly, he righted himself and strode from the room. As he reached the door, he turned back to her. Pausing, he watched the curve of her elegant neck as she resumed eating.

Stubborn woman, he thought to himself. And with that amazing talent that some men possess of saying just the wrong thing during a fight to make his wife even angrier at him, he offered;

"You will see that I was right," and descended to the factory, leaving Margaret clenching the fork and her jaw in frustration.

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They had been married a year. A year of secret encounters behind closed office doors, of afternoon encounters in the master bedroom, of morning encounters after waking up tangled together, of picnics in the fields by the river which lead to encounters behind the trees out of sight of the road… suffice to say that the encounters were numerous, as the newly-weds learnt what it was to love and be loved physically. But there was more to their relationship than that. John learnt that when Margaret's brow creased as she read by the fire in the evenings, the best thing to do was help her undress, massage her shoulders, help her take down her long hair, and leave her to sleep. If, however, she lay her book to the side and stared at him with a cocked head and slightly unfocused gaze, she was imagining him doing things to her that she expected to be done, and soon. Margaret learnt that if Mr Thornton was quiet and thoughtful in the mornings, a tough day lay ahead and he would not appreciate being disturbed. She also learnt that if he stroked her neck lightly as he said goodbye in the morning, letting her hair curl in his fingers, she would be visited in the afternoon.

And so, the year passed. Margaret's parents had passed, as had John's mother about six months into their marriage. Mr Bell had sailed for Argentina, and, having visited the Thorntons before his voyage, ensured the future prosperity of the couple.

Yet this prosperity did not mean that the couple would be forever happy. The arrival of an outbreak of the consumption in Milton lead to their first major disagreement as a couple, and the current state of silence at the breakfast table.

Three days earlier:

Margaret returned to Marlborough Mills, a worried expression marring her lovely face and an empty basket lodged in the crook of her arm. Climbing the stairs to her home, she raised her hand to the handle only to have it and the door opened at her arrival. And standing on the inside was a livid Mr Thornton. Margaret exclaimed in happy surprise as he opened the door, but on seeing his stern brow and rigid posture did not move to kiss his cheek, as was customary between them.

"You went." It was not a question.

Margaret nodded, and moved past him, removing her gloves as she did so. Laying them on the foyer table, she set the basket down and began to remove her hat as John closed the door with a loud thunk.

"Yes. I said I would go, and I did. There was a lot of good to be done." She did not look at her husband, and kept her voice deliberately light. She did not want to fight, especially considering how tiring her day had been.

John slowly moved towards her, his broad shoulders blocking out the last of the light coming through the windows behind him. Speaking slowly in a voice barely masking his anger, he pronounced "Imagine my surprise, Mrs Thornton, on finding out, from a servant no less, that my wife had disobeyed my wishes."

Margaret looked carefully at him. He had never used her married name when they were in private before. She lay her hand on his arm. "There's no need to be angry, dear. I did what I thought was right."

John exploded. "What you thought was right? What is wrong with you? Have you completely taken leave of your senses? You could have died!"

"Don't speak to me in that tone! And if you expect to dictate my actions, think again. I told you, I did what I thought was right, and I will continue to do so until the pandemic is over. People need assistance and we are in a position to help, so I will do so."

John looked at her incredulously. "You are mistaken if you think I will allow you to leave this house again under these conditions! You will stay home, and you will avoid the ill. You will not visit them, and you will not tend them, do you hear me?"

During this outburst, Margaret's temper had raised to match Johns. In a clipped tone, she asked "And what exactly do you think gives you the right, Mr Thornton, to place me under such a house arrest? There are ill people who need care and supplies and no one will help them. Why would you prevent me from doing my duty- "

"Because I love you, you impossible woman! You are the only thing of any value in this god-forsaken world and you insist on throwing that away! What kind of sheer stupidity is that? Why can't you see that your actions were reckless and stupid-"

"You are calling me stupid?"

"No, I am calling your disregard for your own life stupid-"

"Do not try to deceive me, the two are conflated."

"That is besides the point, Margaret." Lowering his voice, he said clearly and coldly, "As your husband, I am demanding that you do not leave the house to tend the ill until the worst of the disease is contained. If you do not obey, I shall send you to stay with Fanny in London until it is over."

Margaret looked up into the eyes of her husband, her mouth agog in outrage and shock. After a moment of silence, she closed her mouth and shook her head.

"I do not know you at all."

And she had not spoken to him since.

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Three days turned into a week, a week into two. Meals became ever more tense. Silence prevailed. John had come home one night to find his wife asleep in the bedroom next to their marital room.

He missed her.

He woke up every morning cold and confused, before remembering why the pillow next to his was cool and untouched. He missed seeing his wife smile at him in the morning, before moving to kiss him. He missed her smell, her visits at lunch time and the feeling of her head on the crook of his shoulder.

It was becoming unbearable. The evenings in front of the fire had been tense, so when Margaret excused herself one evening, he was relieved. Seating himself in his favourite chair, he stared into the flames, lost in thought. He could apologise, he supposed. But he wouldn't. As much as he missed her, he knew he was right. She couldn't put herself at risk like that, and it was his duty as her husband to protect her, even from herself. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had lost his mother, and his sister now lived in London. He knew what it was to love her, and be without her. He knew what it was to be alone. And the idea of losing Margaret, his Margaret, was too painful to bear.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice when his wife, dressed in her night gown with hair loose came to stand at the door, looking in at him. He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he didn't notice the tear descend his cheek, illuminated by the fire. Margaret did though, and her insides ached.

"John?"

He looked up at her, surprised. Suddenly feeling the dampness on his chin, he wiped it away. Margaret walked towards the fire, though rather than sitting in her usual chair, she sat on her knees at John's feet, coming her leave her hands resting softly on his knees. He looked down at her, surprised, but willing to speak to her in what he hoped would be their reconciliation.

Margaret looked up at him, her stomach in knots. What she had to tell him would be difficult, but it had to be done. Reaching for her confidence, she started.

"John, I must confess something. Although you forbade it, I continued to visit the sick for a week after our disagreement. I bribed Jessie to tell you differently."

John raised his hand to his head, feeling the old anger rise up, but before he could say anything, she continued.

"Then last week I…" she paused, gathering strength, and decided to start elsewhere. "Doctor Harrison visited today-"

At the name of the local physician, John felt as though he had been simultaneously plunged into iced water and punched in the gut. Rising to his feet in panic, his eyes trapped on those of his wife who rose at the same time, he couldn't breathe, couldn't-

His knees buckled beneath his as his worst nightmare faced him, a long illness followed by a life without Margaret, and falling in front of her, he clung to her, his head at her navel, clinging on, desperate to be close, desperate-

Understanding what exactly he had misunderstood, she quickly reassured him "John, no! I am not ill, I am with child."

His eyes snapped to hers. The room was silent except for the occasional crackle of the fire. It took a solid three seconds, a long three seconds, for John to understand what she had said.

"With child?" He repeated stupidly.

She nodded in confirmation. "Doctor Harrison thinks that I am eight weeks with child. As soon as I suspected I stopped visiting. I realised you were right, I was being reckless and-"

Margaret was made to swallow her sentence as John crushed her to him, kissing her deeply on the mouth with such intensity and desperation that tears sprung to her eyes. He was trembling, she realised. He was shaking and every second he kissed her he held her closer, as if scared she would disappear. She separated for air, and he latched onto her neck, kissing feverishly.

"I'm sorry, John."

"No." Raising his head and kissing her lips again, he spoke against her mouth. "No words, no apologies, just-" He kissed her again, then lifting her up into his arms, carried her to his bedroom, their bedroom, where he proved his love for her again and again, praising every inch of her skin.

And in the morning, she woke up and smiled at him before attacking him with renewed vigour. John realised in that moment how he could have avoided the entire fight had he addressed her in the entrance hall with a bit more common sense, before the thought was driven out of his head by his passionate wife.

Perhaps such common sense is overrated.


End file.
